“Miller put his money into the ranch, not into things,” Dylan said. “My wife was generous, though. She gave me that antique cavalry blanket—”
The sheriff whistled under his breath.
“—and Miller’s favorite pocket knife. She made sure each of the hands got something special of Miller’s, but why don’t you tell us what this is all about?”
“What about Miller’s rodeo buckles?”
“Oh.” Sondra smiled. “Miller kept those in a case in the bottom drawer. They’re beautiful. I thought maybe I’d have them framed.”
“So you didn’t give them away.” The sheriff squinted at her.
“No. Why?”
“Those aren’t just pretty, honey. They’re valuable.” Dylan and Troy exchanged a look.
“Anywhere from one hundred to five thousand dollars apiece.” The sheriff bent down and put a box on his desk.
Sondra gaped at it. “That’s Miller’s!”
The sheriff opened the lid. “And the buckles?”
“Miller’s,” Dylan grated.
“I can confirm that by the event dates on some of them, but others are antiques and can’t be traced. I needed you to confirm these were his and hadn’t been given away.”
“I’ve seen a file on the computer. I can e-mail it to you,” Sondra said.
Tense as could be, Dylan demanded, “How did you get these?”
“The tire tracks we found by the fencing when the cattle were poisoned narrowed the make and model.”
“So they were poisoned. It wasn’t an accident.” Sondra looked at Dylan.
He readjusted Matt in his arms. “I didn’t have solid proof. Just a strong hunch.”
“We’ve been following leads. When we searched the car, we found these and something else.” The sheriff picked up a clear plastic envelope and laid it on the desk.
Sondra leaned forward and froze. The bag contained a pair of wedding bands. One was cut. Kenny’s and mine.
❧
“Can you identify these?” Troy asked as Dylan watched his wife’s reaction.
She nodded. “They’re my wedding set—my old one.”
“Are you sure?” the sheriff pressed.
“Yes.” She turned to Dylan. “Someone has been in our house.”
“Miller’s brother,” Dylan confirmed.
“But I wrote and asked if there was something he’d like to have. He made it clear he didn’t want anything.” Her voice shook. “He didn’t have to sneak in and steal.”
“Troy?” Someone from the doorway waved an envelope. “It’s a match.”
“Book him and add arson to the charges.” Troy looked at Dylan. “Matched his footprint.”
Dylan grimaced. “Why?”
“He invested his inheritance in that developing company.”
Tears filled Sondra’s eyes. “I would have given him the buckles.”
But she’s upset about Kenny’s ring. That galled Dylan. No matter how much he loved her, her heart still belonged to another man.
“Thanks for coming in.” Troy rose.
Dylan took the hint. They’d come and identified the stolen goods. There wouldn’t be any more sabotage. He and Sondra stood. The rings on her left hand sparkled as she reached for the diaper bag. To his surprise, she didn’t look back at the rings on the desk. She reached for Matt and snuggled him close.
“We already logged in this evidence. You’re welcome to take it home.”
“That would be nice.” To Dylan’s surprise, Sondra didn’t sound desperately relieved. She looked up at him. “Maybe someday Matt would like those rings.”
The sheriff nodded. “That’s a fine idea. Speaking of rings, no one reckoned you’d slip a ring on Sondra’s finger and secure the Curly Q at the last minute. Edwin’s sabotage almost worked.”
Dylan shook his head. “My plan was to make the Curly Q turn a stellar profit so Sondra would know I wanted her for herself—not for her land. The sabotage moved up the date is all. The provision in the will was just an excuse for me to wed this woman. I’d have done so in the months ahead.”
Troy chuckled. “I guessed as much. Folks have had a high old time watching you fall for Sondra.”
“I fell all right.” Dylan looked into Sondra’s eyes. He was taking a huge leap of faith here, but he’d been about to speak with her back home. God opened a door for him to tell Sondra how he felt, and he couldn’t slam it shut. “What started out as a simple partnership between us because of Miller’s will grew into something soul-deep.”
Tears glittered in her eyes. She dropped the diaper bag and slipped her hand into his.
He added, “What started out as accepting Miller’s will turned into following God’s will.”
They headed toward home, but Sondra remained silent. Dylan couldn’t take it anymore. “We’ve gotta talk.”
Sondra leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes. “Last time we had a serious talk in the car, we agreed Matt would call you daddy.”
“Things there are settled. It’s the you-me stuff that needs ironing out. I just announced that I love you, and you haven’t said a thing.”
She hitched her shoulder and looked out the window. “You didn’t exactly say you love me. I understand. You said this wasn’t a Valentine’s-y, romantic marriage. I know you do love me—as your Christian sister.”
Dylan pulled over to the side of the road. In the end, it all boiled down to this. “Is that all I am to you? Just your brother in the Lord? Someone you married because you think this was God’s will, even if it wasn’t yours?”
Very slowly, she turned toward him. Her eyes opened and filled with tears. “No. You and Matt and Jesus—you’re my whole world.” Her voice broke. “But I understand that love can be one-sided. I haven’t done anything to deserve your love.”
“Honey pie, I’m wild about you. God taught us that love isn’t earned. It’s freely given. Believe me, I have a heart full of love to give you.” He proved it, too, with a heated kiss. He pulled away and pressed his forehead to hers. “Believe me, I’m not feeling very brotherly right now. I’m crazy in love with you.”
She tilted her head and kissed him, then slowly pulled away. “Mmm. Then stay crazy, because I love you.”
Dylan hastily buckled her seat belt and started the car. He pulled out onto the road and sped toward home.
“Dylan, what are you doing?”
“Speeding. I’d pay a million dollar ticket without batting an eye.”
“You would? Why?”
He gave her a long look, and his voice dropped to a rumble. “It’s time to go home, city-girl.”
❧
Half an hour later, Sondra sat on the edge of the bed and pleated the satin of her nightgown between nervous fingers. Dylan came into the bedroom, gave her a searching look, and said, “We have a problem.”
Her hand curled, smashing the satin into a ball. “We do?”
He surveyed the pillows, then lifted his chin. “Yup, we do.” He didn’t bat an eye or pause to take a breath. “You’re on my side of the bed.”
“I’m. . . .”
“On my side of the bed. I’ll try to be workable on lots of issues, but this is one time when I’m going to be stubborn.”
“Oh.” She hopped up, wound her arms around his waist, and laughed.
“Now this is the way things are supposed to be.”
Epilogue
Sondra’s laughter shivered in the morning air. “Hey, Dylan!” She came out of the henhouse holding a squirming, twenty-inch reptile. Extending it toward him, she grinned playfully. “Proud of me? I’m not petrified this time.”
Dylan felt everything inside of him lurch.
Completely oblivious to his reaction, she launched into a rendition of the speech he’d given her the last time she’d found a snake. “This is a common milk snake. They’ve been known to eat eggs. They certainly don’t eat people. Stop spluttering, Dylan! I learned my lesson from you that first day. If anything, the poor thi
ng is terrified of me. Can’t say as I blame him, either. Talk about a bad hair day!”
Dylan made a strangled sound and reached for his sheath knife. “Sondra, heave that snake away!”
“Oh, stop getting crazy. I’m not afraid of him.” She turned her hands so she and the snake were facing one another. Playfully, she stuck out her tongue a few times. “He’s kind of cute, don’t you think?”
“Now, Sondra—toss him!”
“I’m going to take him over closer to the fence so I can grab a hoe. You said I’m supposed to chop off his head, but the thought makes me a little sick to my stomach. Do you mind doing the honors?”
“Gladly! Just heave him as far away as you can.”
“Boss—” Nickels’s voice cut in. “I’ll get him; you take care of her.”
“You know,” Sondra said as she twisted the snake to suit her will, “we talked about what to name the ranch. What do you think of—”
“Sondra!”
Sondra finally obeyed. She casually tossed the squirming reptile onto the ground just a few feet away. Dylan leapt and tackled her. They rolled over a few times and came to a stop with him lying fully on top of her.
“Wow, sweetheart,” she whispered. “You really know how to knock a girl off her feet.”
He forced a chuckle, then forked his fingers through her wild hair and kissed her until they were both breathless. “I’m never gonna get enough of you.”
“You both okay, boss?”
“More than okay,” Dylan said as he got to his feet and pulled Sondra upright. “Thanks for the coverage.”
Nickels shook his head and pushed his hat back a bit. “Reckon you ought to teach that little city-gal wife of yours to be careful of copperheads.”
“Oh, it wasn’t a copperhead, Nickels—it was just a plain, old milk snake.” Sondra’s smile froze, then melted as she saw the look the men exchanged. She could feel the blood draining from her face. Unwilling to let them witness her embarrassing cowardice, she vaguely murmured, “We all have chores to do.” Just a few more steps, and she could sit down on the bench Dylan put in her garden. . . .
“Whoa. Hey.” Dylan caught her and chuckled. He got her to the bench and promptly tucked her head between her watery knees.
When she finally sat up again, he asked, “Better?”
“Yeah. Fine.”
“Coulda fooled me. You know, the first time you saw a snake, you lost your breakfast. This time, you nigh unto fainted. Looks like I’ve saddled myself with a prissy little city-gal for a wife.”
“Almost right.” She rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m definitely your wife, but I’m not prissy, and it wasn’t the snake.”
“Oh? And what was it?”
“Morning sickness.”
Dylan took a minute to digest that news. Once it sank in, he let out a loud whoop.
Nickels came running. “Boss?”
Dylan chortled and gave Sondra a big kiss. “Praise God! We’re gonna have another baby!”
About the Author
Cathy Marie Hake is a Southern California native who loves her work as a nurse and Lamaze teacher. She and her husband have a daughter, a son, and three dogs, so life is never dull or quiet. Cathy considers herself a sentimental packrat, collecting antiques and Hummel figurines. In spare moments, she reads, bargain hunts, and makes a huge mess with her new hobby of scrapbooking. [email protected]
A note from the Author:
I love to hear from my readers! You may correspond with me by writing:
Cathy Marie Hake
Author Relations
PO Box 721
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Table of Contents
Copyright
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Epilogue
About the Author
In His Will Page 16
